


What Comes After

by wantingfornothing



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Interstellar travel, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantingfornothing/pseuds/wantingfornothing
Summary: As the world reels from the aftermath of the Blip, the Avengers disassemble. Sam, Bucky, and Wanda are left aimless, until one night when they begin having prophetic dreams warning of a cosmic inference to Natasha's death.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 44
Kudos: 159





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my answer to Endgame.
> 
> This has been in the works for a few months now. My approach was to write the entire first segment before posting any chapters, so that I can aim to update this weekly until the story is completed. At the time of initial posting, one third of the story has been written, and I know how it will end. This is the canon compliant, post-Endgame SteveNat fic you've been waiting for.

PROLOGUE

_“What is done cannot be undone.”_

_“It’s a fair trade.”_

_“This exchange cannot be returned.”_

_“You’re lying.”_

_“You misunderstand. It cannot be returned by one such as yourself.”_

_“Clint, then.”_

_“The living have no dominion over the souls of the sacrificed. She is well beyond your grasp, soldier.”_

_“Don’t call me that. In this timeline she only died moments ago.”_

_“And yet, she is already far away from here. You should rest well with the knowledge that her sacrifice has been accepted.”_

_“Accepted?...She didn’t want this! She doesn’t-“_

_“Ah, but how do you know that?”_

***

_He could observe the faint aura of an unusually crimson horizon. His body felt cold, moist. His hand rose above his face, and he studied the droplets coating his skin. It hit him then that he was lying in a shallow pool of water. Confused, he rose from the ground, assessing the surroundings. The pool was engulfed by an endless expanse of desert in every direction. There was an odd feeling of tranquility upon observing the scene, quickly replaced by a sense of urgency. He felt compelled to walk toward the setting sun, until he reached it._

_Moist clothes sticking to his spine and the back of his thighs, he trudged along the dunes for what seemed like hours. Heat waves bounced off the ground in the distance, morphing the skyline into a swirl of colours, until he reached a point close enough to discern what he was really witnessing; a wave of flames, climbing above the horizon, swallowing the desert whole, picking up speed in its path. He instinctively turned to begin running back in the direction he came from. He had to reach the pool again._

_His feet felt heavy with each hurried step, sinking deep into the layers of sand. The anomaly produced a roaring sound, that told him it was rapidly approaching his rear. He glanced back and forth as he ran, and suddenly, a glowing figure began to emerge from the fiery mass, slowly but surely, the identity of the figure all too recognizable._

_It was her. Natasha._

_His eyes widened, and he felt his stomach sink upon observing her void expression. In a mix of confusion, the terrain beneath his feet gave way. He was falling back into the pool, clear as glass with the flames crashing down upon it._

Sam awoke with an abrupt breath. Sitting up, he slid himself off of the side of the bed. It still felt strange to be back. Some mornings, it really took him a few moments to adjust. 

**BOOK ONE: SAM**

Sunlight peered through the blinds, casting a warm glow into the otherwise dull room. He missed the compound. 

He, Bucky, and Wanda had been staying at an Avengers outpost in New Jersey for the last five months, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The world was still mourning Tony Stark, but it had picked up the pieces Thanos had left. Things were different now, they could all see it, but still, people were attempting to rebuild their lives.

After the battle, most of the heroes who had assembled reconnected with family. Some went their separate ways, others, back into the deep, dark crevices of space. The three of them frankly had no where else to go. The government had finally relinquished hunting them, but after being fugitives for so long, Sam wasn’t sure they were capable of settling down. Wanda had lost Vision. James was finally a free man after seventy odd years, and Sam, sometimes he still needed to hear the sound of his own heartbeat just to remind him he was alive. He’d lost his house in DC during the blip; there was nothing else to go back to. They were the only active members of the team left.

Steve had passed away a few weeks after the day he left to return the stones. Sam was still trying to wrap his head around it. And returning to find out that Natasha had been killed in action had hit him unbearably hard. In what felt like an instant, his closest comrades were gone. Bucky and Wanda had naturally let Sam slide into a sort of leadership role, no doubt as he was made the bearer of Steve’s legacy. A part of him resented Steve for leaving; for leaving him with that, at a time when they were so lost and confused. But he had also come to realize that the “blip” took a greater toll on those who remained living. In the brief time he had seen him after resurrecting, he could tell that Steve wasn’t the same. Then losing Natasha _and_ Tony had been too much. So Sam couldn’t entirely blame him for going back. He imagined the absolute state of despair that the living world had been left to rot in, it was enough to give him chills.

He changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans, attempting to shake off the vivid dream. It had felt all too real. A part of him wondered if it was a side effect of dying; like so many resurrected souls in myths, cursed to keep seeing the dead.

Suddenly, a piercing scream could be heard from down the hall. 

Wanda. 

Sam bolted for her room, running into Bucky in the doorway. 

“Wanda?” the soldier asked hesitantly, before slowly pushing the door open.

She was sitting up, breathing heavily, light evidence of a cold sweat adorning her temples. Sam moved to comfort her, rubbing his thumb across her forehead, “It was just a dream,” he assured her softly, “I’ve been having them too.”

“...felt different,” she winced. Then she held out her palms so the two of them could see. Fresh burn marks trailed their way across her skin. Bucky raised his brows at the sight. She stared vacantly into Sam’s eyes, “I saw her. There was a ring of fire...desert night. It swallowed me whole,” her voice was almost a whisper.

Bucky began to turn pale. “Natasha,”

Sam swallowed hard, not wanting to believe it. He turned to face him, “How do you know?”

“Because I just had the exact same dream.”

***

“You realize this sounds absolutely insane right?” Bruce‘s hologram addressed the three of them in the facility’s common room. 

“Yeah no shit,” Bucky rubbed a palm across his forehead. 

“How the hell is it possible all three of us had the exact same dream, at the exact same time?” Sam pressed. 

“Because it was a vision,” Wanda interjected.

“Wanda could have subconsciously passed her dream to you guys telekinetically, it’s not conclusive evidence of some...supernatural intervention,”Bruce waved his hands in the air, “You were both sleeping in the vicinity.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can’t do it subconsciously. It takes a tremendous amount of focus and power.”

“So...what? Are we saying something out there is using Wanda as a conduit-reaching out across lightyears of space?”

“Something, or someone?” Bucky murmured. 

“No,” Bruce declared, “Absolutely not. We’re not seriously suggesting this?” He scanned the remaining Avengers for signs of doubt. “I snapped my fingers! She was gone.”

Sam took a deep breath, “I know how it sounds,” he uncrossed his arms, gesturing toward Wanda, “This anomaly left physical imprints on Wanda’s arms. She may be the reason Buck and I also had the dream, but she’s not the source.”

“And who is the source? ..Natasha?” The end of her name left his lips in a whisper.

The three of them just stared at Bruce with unblinking eyes.

“If there was even a chance she could come back, Steve would have found it...when he returned the stone.” Bruce sighed and continued, “They were close the last few years. He was...the only person who stayed with her after we all left.”

“We’ll never know for sure,” Sam folded his arms across his chest, “He never came back.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Bruce murmured.

***

The three of them ate in silence that night, each contemplating the potential implications of what they had seen, and reflecting on Bruce’s words. He was right, Sam had thought. It was crazy. Still, neither of them could shake the feeling. Maybe it was the way Sam could feel his heart beat during those few moments in which he thought they might have purpose again; finally surfacing after a deep dive. And now they were plunged underneath once again.

_The crimson sky burned a line of fire across the cooling horizon. Dusk enveloped the rocky terrain. Why was this place so familiar?_

_Dunes stretched across the expanse of terrain in every direction. His intuition told him to head toward the horizon; aimlessly, he trudged along, entranced by the odd sense of compulsion. After a while, the ground became stiff, and rocky, with sand pooling in various divots. He could feel his path reach a slight incline. Gradually, he could feel the steepness increase in his steps, and the next thing he knew, he was looking over the edge of a very high cliff. Bewildered, he spun around to witness the vast crater behind him, teeming with molten heat against an indigo sky._

_He began to panic, frantically surveying the area, but it was too late. The eruption had begun. The earth below tremored, and rock was hurled from above. Instinctively, he threw his hands over his head. He scanned the area for shelter, and that’s when he saw someone stumbling out from behind the rock, across the crater, and looking in his direction._

_Bucky._

_“Sam!” Bucky shouted, waving his arms and then shaking his head in confusion._

_“We need to find a way down!” Sam insisted. More rock was hurdled from the crater, and the tremors picked up again, almost knocking both men onto their feet. Sam took a deep breath before making a mad dash in Bucky’s direction, dodging debris in his path._

_He was knocked down when the entire earth below him shook, the walls of the crater suddenly beginning to crack and buckle. The entire mountain split in two down the middle, and then, flying up out of the craters depths, Wanda appeared, looking battered and dusty, and barely latching onto the edge where Sam sat peering over._

_“What’s going on?!” he had to yell to be heard over the soundtrack of the eruption. Through his peripheral, he could see Bucky reaching the two of them._

_“She’s coming,” Wanda gasped out, defeated._

_“Who?!” Bucky glanced about frantically as he and Sam pulled Wanda up over the ledge._

_As if on cue, the crater rumbled again. Wanda threw her shield up to block her friends from the debris._

_Something was emerging from the centre, glowing molten yellow. As the figure ascended from the pools of lava, its identity was realized._

_Sam felt his chest sink and his mouth gape in both awe and fear as he uttered her name with a shaky breath._

_“Natasha.”_

_“Get back!” Wanda motioned for Sam and Bucky to get behind her as she prepared her shields again._

_As she regained form, Natasha rolled her neck from back to front, now facing them with a blank stare_

_“What is this? What‘s happening?” He asked again._

_When Wanda didn’t answer, Sam silently pleaded, searching Natasha’s eyes for any sign of his friend. All he could find was a void._

_Natasha, or the thing that looked like her, raised her hand, sending a wave of more smelted rock hurdling in their direction, which Wanda blocked and disintegrated with her shields. Her knees buckled in the process._

_“Nat!” Sam begged._

_In the instance of hearing her name, Natasha raised a brow, and with squinted eyes and slightly parted lips, tilted her head to the side. She held eye contact with Sam for an extended moment. But then the moment was gone._

_Before anyone could react, Natasha reached out and took hold of both of Wanda’s arms. There was a subtle hissing noise, followed by a simmering orange glow, and an agonizing scream from Wanda’s lips._

“Wanda!” Sam jumped from his bed, awake, and immediately aware of what was transpiring. He took off down the hall toward her room. 

Wanda was already on her feet when Sam and Bucky were nudging open her door. She held out her arms so they could observe what she was staring at: several rows of strange glyphs branded across her flesh. 

“What the hell?” Bucky whispered, bewildered.


	2. Decryption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining Avengers attempt to form a conclusion about their recurring nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a (relatively) timely update! This chapter is a little shorter due to the overall flow of Book One, but nonetheless productive. More exciting developments to come!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left comments! I enjoy reading all of them, and throughout the story I will respond to those asking questions.

“It’s incredible,” Bruce remarked as he studied Wanda’s tiny arm, holding it with his fingers, “I thought we were way out of line here, but this...”

“Now the green dude is ready to believe in miracles,” Sam quipped, punctuating the comment with a smirk.

“Does it hurt?” 

“Only at first,” Wanda replied, turning her wrist to study the markings, “Whatever it is, it’s mystical,” she turned to meet Sam’s gaze with a half smile. 

“Wanda couldn’t have done this Bruce,” Sam declared, arms folded across his chest, “this is a language none of us recognize. It’s...alien.”

“I know,” he replied softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why do you think I came out here?” He paused, “Though, I don’t have the slightest idea how to even begin transcribing this.”

“We need to find somebody who can...and fast.”

“What do you mean?” Sam turned to Wanda with furrowed brows.

“These dreams are trying to warn me of something, I can feel it. I don’t think we should take this lightly,” Wanda swallowed. When no one replied she continued, “She died in a ritual sacrifice for an elemental stone on a strange planet. That’s no normal death. What if there were...cosmic side effects?”

“Could we even stop it?” Bucky murmured, “...if it was?”

Bruce sighed, “I’m hoping we’ll find the answers here,” he looked down to inspect the glyphs more intently, “Most of these symbols appear to be..derivative of one another. It’s like...they all have a similar base value, with slight visual alterations.”

“Like a number system?” Bucky deduced.

“Potentially,” Bruce nodded, his eyes suddenly ignited with resolve. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he called out into the open room, “Can we get a scan of this inscription?” 

The remnant of Tony’s legacy came to life at once, blue light washing over the data before them.

“I don’t think the A.I. is gonna be able to help us on this one,” Sam declared.

_“Origin of the markings is unknown, as is the physical cause of Ms. Maximoff’s ailments–"_

“Yeah, I get that, what can we deduce about the physical structure of the glyphs?”

_“I can suspect they are to be read vertically, given the distance ratio between the vertical and horizontal tracking of the individual characters. There appears to be two base form structures, each situated on its own baseline, and with several variations.”_

“How many variations can you detect?”

_“Eighty-one for the first, fourteen for the second.”_

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. subtract all offshoot structures from the image.” The hologram before them morphed into a simplification of its former self. Bruce plopped back into his chair, punctuated with a grin and a breathy laugh. “What does that look like to you, kiddos?”

Sam squinted, observing the expansive pattern of two distinct symbols, repeated in varying increments. His eyes went wide as the answer finally clicked in his brain. “Holy shit. It’s morse.”

“Morse code was invented by humans, on earth,” astounded, Bucky softly asserted what they all knew, with a fleeting hint of a smile. 

“So...what does it say?” Sam pressed.

Bruce picked up the nearby tablet screen, sliding the hologram image into its system, “Let’s find out.”

“What about the rest of the data shrouding the code?” Wanda glanced down at her arms once more, eyes scanning the symbols, “Was it just a disguise, or does it mean something?”

“Eighty-one fourteen,” Bruce muttered to himself, “Eight...one...one...four...shit.” His eyes widened and he could feel himself turning pale. “It’s a date stamp. That’s the date I put in the quantum tunnel to send the team to Morag. That’s–that’s the day she died.” His last few words escaped his lips in an anxious huff.

“God.” Sam wiped a hand across his forehead, bracing himself. He glanced at Wanda, her eyes glistening with a swirling mixture of shock and hopefulness.

“So...if the message is dated 2014, why are we just receiving it now?” Bucky inquired.

Bruce eyed the tablet screen again, “I think you’re on to something. You were right, Bucky. The code translates to a bunch of numbers, with the odd letter...I think...these are celestial coordinates.” He spun around in the chair to face the three Avengers, a gleam in his eyes.

Sam let out the breath be didn’t even realize he was holding.

Bruce turned back to the screen, “If I run them through our archive...” he initiated a hologram screen above the tablet so they all could see the location name, clear as crystal, staring them in the face.

“Vormir.”

“You gotta be shitting me,” Sam muttered, utterly bewildered. A momentary silence washed over the room, not one of them knowing how to break it. Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but immediately closed it. He began pacing, and then finally allowed the thoughts to flow from his brain, “Has she been alive this whole goddamn time? And in another timeline?”

“I don’t think so Sam,” Wanda added, her sure, soft tone soothing the aura of tension permeating the room. “If we’re receiving this now, maybe it’s because we’re meant to,” the men redirected their gaze to her, “But I’m starting to think her soul might have survived...caught in a place between timelines.” 

“Is that even possible?” Sam asked the rhetorical question.

“Given everything that’s happened thus far, I’m gonna say why the hell not?” Bucky replied sarcastically.

Wanda turned to Bruce, “What if that’s why you couldn’t bring her back with the stones?”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“So what does this all mean, then?” Bucky leaned back against the desk, arms folded across his chest. 

“It means we go get her.” Sam stated, a wave of determination washing over his features. Wanda smiled, noting how he reminded her of Steve in a moment like this.

“We know basically nothing about that place. It’s way out of our depths.” Bucky added solemnly.

“Well we know lot’s of people who would,” Sam was referring to the mass of heroes who had assembled in the fight against Thanos. 

“Hang on. We don’t even know if we _can_ bring her back.” Bruce threw up an arm in front of him.

“Well I figure I got no where else to be, and my friend might need my help.”

Bruce began to shake his head, reading Sam’s intentions, “Should I remind you all of what happened the last time we went looking for salvation in space?”

“Natasha would do it for any one of us,” Sam replied, “I mean she already did. We owe her this much.”

“I’ve always wanted to see the stars,” Bucky turned to Sam and smirked.

“Okay,” Bruce declared, chasing a breath after another long pause. “I could...send a distress beacon to Carol...maybe Rocket too. If you all really want to do this, we’re gonna need a ship...and a pilot.”

“And what about weapons?” Wanda broke her silence. The three of them responded with looks of confusion.

“If Bruce and Carol come I don’t think we have to worry ab–“

“That’s not what I mean,” she interrupted Sam with a stoic expression, “We need to be prepared for the very real possibility that whatever, or whomever we find, is not who we expect.” When no one said anything, she extrapolated, “We saw what happened in the dreams. We have to assume it’s not all just metaphoric. We were seeing it for a reason...” she shook her head, ever so slowly and slightly, “There might not be anything left.”

“We don’t know for sure. I never saw her die.” Sam declared.

“Then we need the two people who did.”


	3. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driven to save Nat, Sam and Bucky embark on the impossible journey.

_The jet touched down upon the expanse of grass and shrubs below, just far enough away from where they needed to be that they wouldn’t alert suspicion. The air was still and quiet._

_The duo trotted up toward the house, and, hesitantly at first, gave a firm knock of the door. A smaller figure could be observed in movement behind the beveled glass windows. Through the framework they could hear, “Daddy, I think some of your superhero friends are here!” After another moment the door unlatched and slowly, swung open._

_“Wanda?...Rhodey? What brings you out here?” Clint’s look of surprise and content began to waver as he observed their stoic, heavy expressions._

_“Clint,” Rhodey began, “Look, we know you’re retired, man, but you’re gonna want to come with us once you hear what we have to say.”_

_“What?” muttered the archer, now visibly concerned._

_Wanda took a breath and swallowed, “We received a message..from space. It’s about Natasha. We think...we think she might be alive.”_

***

“You guys actually wore these?” Sam fidgeted in the bulky suit, hard Kevlar hitting the cool metal of the platform beneath him. 

“What the hell are we even doing?” Bucky lamented under his breath.

“I can’t believe we’re actually using this stupid thing again,” Bruce sighed.

“Hey, watch it. This is Hank’s life’s work,” Scott piped up, “I can take these Pym particles right back.”

“Honestly, you probably should,” the green man stared down at the control panel, solemnly shaking his head.

Bucky turned to Sam, speaking softly, “What do you think he’s gonna say, when he sees us?”

Sam sighed, “I have no idea.”

After a pause, he spoke up, addressing the three of them, “I know what we’re about to do sounds entirely messed up, but we all know we need Steve. We need to know everything he knows about that soul stone, and like Wanda said, we need all of Nat’s closest friends on this if we want our best chance at success.”

“You sound just like him,” Scott smiled. 

Sam continued, “We know that he went back to 1947. Thankfully, he mentioned it to me before he passed. Ironically, this mission is only possible because he shared that info.”

“We also know that this version of 1947 that he went back to was an alternate one,” Bruce took over the mission brief, “Because he had to travel back to our reality to pass on the shield to our Sam, it makes things real simple.” 

“We go to that alternate timeline, and convince him to come back where he belongs.” Sam finished.

“I was able to access some archives from his time bracelet after the return. So we know the coordinates he arrived at. From what I can surmise, it’s somewhere along the east coast. What was shrouded is the date of his 1947 jump,” Bruce looked directly to Sam and Bucky, “Which means, I’m going to send you to the end of the year, so that you don’t arrive before him. And of course,” he sighed and wiped his forehead, “You need to get to him before he makes any long term decisions there.”

Bucky gulped. He knew exactly what that meant. 

“You’re also gonna have to find him. He could realistically have gone anywhere in the world. But I imagine he arrived close to where he wanted to be.”

“Easy enough, we just have to find Peggy Carter,” Bucky murmured. 

“Once you press the return, I’ll be bringing you back in a minute. Scott and I will be waiting. Be safe.”

Sam took a deep breath, steadying his shoulders as Bruce readied the machine.

“I get the weird sense he’s not gonna be entirely happy to see us,” Bucky muttered.

Before Sam could respond, their helmets were snapping up and the world around them blurred away. They were hurling through an abyss of abstract patterns and colours with no end.

Sam felt his feet touch the ground, and a cool wind brush his face as the helmet opened. He slowly opened his eyes, then surveyed their surroundings. 

They were standing in a park; wide fields populated with trees and a few wooden benches. The sky was overcast. The warm hues of the leaves indicated it was the end of autumn. Sam glanced down at the time band on his wrist. He let out a short gasp of bewilderment, “November 6th...1947.” 

“I don’t see anyone around. I think it’s morning,” Bucky peered out into the distance.

“Probably why he chose this spot. We need to lose the suits before somebody sees us.” Sam pressed the button Bruce had shown him, and the nano particles compacted to reveal their street clothes. Bucky had picked out the outfits to ensure they could blend in, “Ugh. How did y’all even wear suspenders?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You get used to it.”

“You’re still gonna make us stand out with that hair,” Sam quipped, gesturing to Bucky's bun as they began walking forward.

“Oh well. I’ve grown to like it too much,” He smiled and then grew concerned, “We’re gonna be aimlessly wandering these streets until we can get our bearings; figure out where we are. If we’re lucky maybe we’ll find a corner store with a map.

“I miss the future already,” Sam sighed.

They trekked for a short while. The park emptied into a woodsy suburb. Mostly quiet streets were adorned with white aluminum siding and tall oak trees. It was picturesque.

“Well if I was gonna retire, something like this is what I’d have in mind,” Sam contemplated.

“Look,” Bucky motioned forward with a raise of his chin, as he stopped in the middle of the street. 

Sam followed his gaze to the license plate of a parked car that read, _New Jersey_. “Wow, and we never even left the state,” he muttered.

“We need to be sure,” Bucky continued. He scanned the area in front, eyes falling on an older couple sitting on the porch a few houses down, “I have an idea.” 

“Uh, hello there,” Bucky addressed the old folks calmly as he approached, “Sorry to disturb you. My colleague and I were making our way across state when our car broke down a few blocks out. We’ve never been here before, could you tell us what town this is?”

The couple gave both men a once over, slightly perplexed and off-put, but the old man responded kindly, “You’re in South River, son.”

They proceeded to steal a car and follow the old man’s directions to the town archives. “I remember that Peggy was living in Jersey during the war,” Bucky had rationalized, wide-eyed with determination, “Both of them have to be around here.”

“This is it,” Sam declared, after an hour or so of scanning documents hunched over a desk, “Current address of one Margaret Carter.” He tossed the open page across the table in front of Bucky, “They’re in Red Bank.”

They drove in relative silence, thoughts running rampant in their minds predicting the nature of the reunion they were about to have.

“Sam, we haven’t fully thought this through,” Bucky murmured amidst the soft whirring of the engine. “What do we do if he says no?”

“We convince him.” After another minute of silence Sam continued, eerily sombre, “If he really refuses to help then he’s not the man we knew anymore.” 

They arrived at the house just before sunset. Sam parked the car at the side of the road, and with shaky breaths, the two of them trotted towards the front porch. Bucky’s fist hovered beside the door, hesitating. 

“Wait,” Sam pushed his arm out of the way, “Maybe it’s better if I’m the first one she sees. She knew you, but according to her knowledge right now you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Fair,” Bucky nodded, stepping out of view.

Sam took a breath, and then finally knocked. After a short moment, the door unlatched and Peggy was there, a warm smile gracing her face, “Hello. May I help you sir?”

“Margaret Carter?” Peggy nodded, a look of confusion beginning to creep into her features. “I’m here on important business. My name is Samuel Wilson, and I need to know if Steve Rogers is here with you.”

Peggy stammered, “Sir, that is preposterous, you and the whole bloody world knows that he–“

“I know he came back to visit you from the future,” Sam interrupted, “...because that’s the future I’m from.”

Peggy’s eyes widened for a moment, then she inhaled deeply, “And why should I believe you?”

Suddenly, Bucky emerged from behind the wall, standing just behind Sam, looking at Peggy with soft, pleading eyes.

“J-James?” She whispered breathlessly, in shock. 

“Hi Peggy.” 

“Look, we know he’s here,” Sam softened his tone, “Believe me, we wouldn’t have come all this way if it wasn’t important.“

Peggy conceded, ushering them in. “Wait here,” she instructed, motioning to a seating area off to the side. “Steve dear, could you come down?”

Footsteps could be heard from the top of the stairs, “What is it, Peg?” As he reached the bottom he met her nervous expression, and finally turned into the living room to see Sam and Bucky standing there. He slowed to a halt, processing the scene, in utter consternation. His expression went blank.

For a moment, no one said anything. When the silence felt like it dragged on for too long, Sam opened his mouth, a glazed look on his face. “Hey man.”


	4. Casus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bucky face Steve in the the past. 
> 
> —Featuring an early excerpt from Steve's perspective!

“What are you doing here?” Steve muttered in a hollow tone, finally pacing toward them into the living room. His expression had not relaxed. 

“Look, I know this is crazy...showing up here like this. We didn’t want to do it like this but believe me, it’s important. We need your help.”

“I’m retired.” Steve turned toward a nearby end table to grab a newspaper strewn about its top, visibly indifferent.

“Well that’s funny,” Sam continued, disheartened, a wave of tension seeping across his features, “Because I don’t remember that being formally announced.”

Steve whipped around to face him, pleading eyes threatening to break through his facade. He responded softly, “I’m sorry it happened the way it did,” he looked Sam straight in the eyes, “But I’m finished. You need to go.”

Sam hesitated, slightly stunned. Peggy noted his discomfort and snatched the opportunity to speak, “So when exactly were you going to tell me you came from the future?”

Steve clenched his eyes shut, “Dammit,” he bit off the word, defeated, “You just dropped that on her? Like that?” He addressed Sam, voice heated and wavering, he raised a palm to his forehead.

Bucky leaned forward, eyes widened, “You didn’t tell her?”

“What in the bloody hell is happening here?” Peggy threw her arms up as she exclaimed. 

“Peg,” Steve reached for her arms, “I was waiting for the right moment to tell you. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to believe it. Sometimes I hardly can...when I think about everything that’s happened,” he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment and sighed, “There is so much I want to tell you. But you needed to be able to decide that you wanted to be with me before I went ahead and...shattered everything you know about the world.”

“I think I know what I need.” Peggy glanced down at the floor, fidgeting with her fingers. “Where are you from, Steve?”

He let out a deep breath before continuing, “I came here from the year 2023. When I crashed the plane, the world thought I died. But then in 2011, archaeologists excavated my crash site and found me, frozen but, alive.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief and shock, “So...there’s a version of you, the Steve I knew...frozen underground right now? She inched backward, “You’re not him.” 

“Peggy,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to caress her cheek, “I’m still that man. I can be that man for you. I’ve felt the absence of you from the moment I first woke up. And when we invented time travel to save the world...well, everything changed. Nothing was...real anymore. We shattered the laws of what we knew to be possible. I thought maybe it meant that—“

She gave him a wavering smile, placing her hand above his. Questions ran rampant in her mind. “And James?” She glanced in Bucky’s direction.

“Yeah I couldn’t stay dead either,” he quipped with a gentle grin. “Y’see when Hydra captured me in 43 they–I’m saying too much.” He trailed off upon noticing Sam and Steve’s wild expressions.

Sighing, Peggy rubbed at her temples, “I think I need to sit down.” She moved to the armchair across from where Bucky had been sitting.

Steve turned toward Sam and Bucky again, sighing in defeat, “Why are you here? What the hell happened?”

“You died.” Sam’s expression hardened, “The old you...came back to our time after your life was over...not even a minute after you’d left. You handed me the shield and, not long after, that was it,” Sam sniffled, eyes moist with a tear threatening to fall.

Steve sighed again.

“It was just Bucky, Wanda and I after that. The world was quiet. But then a few weeks ago we received a message. Someone or...something began using Wanda as a conduit to broadcast a message. All three of us started having the exact same nightmare over and over again...at the same time.“

“Sam–“ he wistfully protested. 

“We deciphered the message,” Bucky affirmed, “And we think we’ve figured out what the dreams were trying to tell us.”

“What could possibly–“

“We think Natasha might be alive.” Sam punctuated.

Steve froze. He instantly met Sam’s eyes, searching for vindication from his former friend. Finally, he appeared to have processed what he had just heard, and pressing his lips together whispered, “No.”

Sam furrowed his brows, “What?”

“We’re not doing this. I’m not doing this again, I can’t.”

“Steve–“ Bucky protested.

“No, you need to hear this,” Sam’s tone grew raised and impatient, “All of it.”

“Go home Sam,” he pleaded, “Please.”

“I just told you Nat might be alive, and that’s all you have to say?” He enunciated it sternly, as more of a statement than a question. After another pause he shook his head, “Man, what the hell happened to you while we were dead?”

“Do I even want to ask?” Peggy sighed.

“You couldn’t possibly imagine,” Steve uttered to Sam with tense features.

“You’re right, I can’t. But what I do know is that Natasha was the only one who never gave up on us. You all left her alone!” Steve seemed to flinch at the sound of Sam’s accusations. “And now we have a chance to make it right.”

Steve seemed to be entranced in contemplation.

“The message contained coordinates, Steve,” Bucky persisted, “Wanda woke up from the dream with alien glyphs etched into her arms, and somehow Bruce translated it into morse. And they were coordinates for Vormir.”

Steve let out a breath, staring off absentmindedly.

“It was date-stamped the day she died.”

“How—“

“How does a raccoon talk?” Sam muttered, a small smirk wiping across his face.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Steve whispered, staring absentmindedly.

“It doesn’t...but human morse code, sent from space? It can’t be a coincidence.” Bucky concluded.

“There’s something else you should know,” Sam added in a sombre tone, “We saw her...in the dreams. She was different...changed somehow. Wanda seems to think that if any—part of her is alive, she might not remember who she is, or what happened...which is why we’re here...recruiting the person she was closest to.” He paused and briefly glanced at Peggy. 

“What abou—” 

“Wanda and Rhodey are retrieving Clint.”

Steve ran a palm against his face. He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

“If Wanda’s right about this, whatever’s happening is a sign of some kind of cosmic disturbance.” Sam extrapolated.

“It’s about more than just Natasha. If there’s a chance we can stop it, and save her in the process, we have to try.” Bucky declared. 

“You’re asking me to risk all of this on a premonition...images that Wanda could’ve conceived in her own mind. What are you gonna do if you go all the way out there and find nothing?”

“You think she conceived an entire language system in her sleep? She doesn’t even know morse code. Look. Bruce didn’t want to believe it either. But he analyzed the data himself,” Sam motioned forward with both palms, “Someone or something out there wants us to follow those coordinates.”

“Have you considered that it could be some sort of trap?” Peggy chimed in.

“It’s a test of faith,” he nodded in Peggy’s direction and then quickly turned back to Steve, “But I‘m believing in this right now. Maybe this is...something we can’t comprehend yet.”

“But why now...nine years after her death?” Steve pondered.

“That’s what we want to figure out.” Bucky punctuated.

“Rhodey and Lang are on board too.”

“I can’t–“ Steve shook his head, “I can’t do this again.”

Sam sighed, stepping closer to him, “I know why you really left. I looked into your eyes every day for two years...eyes that saw nothing but devastation. You ran away, Steve...from the grief and the loss. You have a chance to come back and do it over...overcome it.”

“This is my do-over.”

Sam paused, studying him, “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

Peggy slowly stood up from the couch, silently encapsulated.

Sam let out a breath of defeat, still staring Steve down, “Look, you can stay here in this fake timeline if you want to, we just need to know what you know about Vormir.”

“Fake?” Steve inquired with a subtle roll of his neck and vacant eyes.

“However you wanna slice it...yeah. You created a whole branch just for yourself to escape to. Do whatever you want, but at least give her a choice,” Sam jabbed a thumb in Peggy’s direction.

Steve expunged another deep breath, irritated. “You want to know what happened on Vormir? The guardian said her soul was out of our reach...She’s gone, Sam. You don’t think that I tried? That I didn’t beg for a loophole before giving up the stone?”

When neither man said anything, he continued, “Like you said, it’s beyond us...beyond our intervention. I can’t help you,” he whispered, defeated. "I can't help anyone." 

Sam scoffed, then turned and paced away from Steve, pausing with his grip on the front door handle. “There’s a bar down the road,” Sam uttered, “We’ll wait there until nightfall. And then we’re gone...Just in case you change your mind.”

“You needed to know that there was a possibility you could still save one of them,” Bucky professed, “...before you make this decision for good. We can let you go now.”

“Forget it, he’s not the man we knew anymore,” Sam gave him one last pained look before reaching for the door.

***

_“Did you know?”_

_“What?”_

_“Did you know what was going to happen to me when you decided to come back here?” Peggy prodded._

_He hesitated but softly conceded, “Yes.”_

_“Was it worse?”_

_He thought about the Alzheimers. “I don’t know. But I had faith that maybe you were still in my destiny.” His confession piqued Peggy’s attention, her chin turning up. “When we failed, and the universe was...plunged into darkness, It made me wonder if I was always meant to come back here—that maybe the future would have been better off.”_

_“Or maybe it would have been worse.” He was struck by her response. “People will always need..symbols who prove that their faith can be rewarded. I don’t think that’s ever going to change.” She licked her drying lips, “But I think, now, that you woke up in the time that perhaps needed you most.” She placed a palm across his shoulder, watching it linger there for a moment before sliding away._

_“Is that really what you believe?”_

_“I don’t know what I believe in now,” she whispered, creases etched over her features. “Steve...It’s been over a month.”_

_“I know,” he uttered, glancing downward and defeated, “Maybe I was enjoying being back here with you so much, it-it became too easy to forget.”_

_She reached up to splay her fingers across his cheek, searching his eyes, her voice just above a whisper, “Seeing you show up at my door that day, was I think the happiest day of my life. Now it’s like...you’re both here and not here at the same time,” she caressed his cheek softly._

_“Peggy...I’m not going anywhere.” He stared back at her admiringly._

_“That’s not what I mean.”_

_“Now it sounds like you want me to go,” he spoke solemnly, through half lidded eyes._

_“No, I–I just need to understand...” After a moment’s pause the train of thoughts resumed in her head, “Who is Natasha?”_

_He didn’t answer right away, taking a breath and a minute to actually contemplate the answer, “She was my partner. When I woke up, she was working for...the people that found me. We both joined the same strike team, and she helped me adjust to life in the future. Things got bad, and that’s how we met Sam, and found Bucky...and then slowly, more and more heroes joined us until we formed this strange, sort of unconventional family.” He smiled softly. “Natasha and I, we...kind of ran it all side by side.”_

_“And then she died?”_

_He released another audible breath, “Yeah. She sacrificed herself to save our friends, Sam and Bucky among them. It’s why they feel so strongly about this.”_

_“I think you feel more strongly about it than you’re letting on.”_

_“What are you suggesting?”_

_“I saw the way you reacted when Sam mentioned her name.”_

_“Peggy. I didn’t have feelings for her.”_

_“Well there is something holding you back there...something you can’t let go of...that you were running away from.” She brought her palm to her forehead, her eyes wide with newfound realization, “There’s so much we can’t even begin to fathom about this.”_

_“You want me to go.” It was a statement, a resignation uncovered through her sentiment._

_“No, but I think you have to. To find out if you truly belong here...and I’m coming with you.”_


	5. Speculum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reflects on past and present predicaments.

Sam sipped on his beer, staring off into the warm crevices of the wood interior, rigid textures engulfing him in a swarm of disorientation. He realized in this instant that he hadn’t truly prepared for the possibility of Steve sending them away, and now attempted to reconcile with his failure. He was met by his own reflection in the backsplash mirror, a swirl of mosaic pieces that reminded him of just how different their circumstances almost could have been.

***

_Sam sipped at his granita, toes comfortably wedged beneath the sand. It had become a sort of morning routine; planning to try each of the flavours so long as they were in town, which he’d presumed wouldn’t be more than a few days. Here, right now, at this beach side bar beneath the white cliffs and tall palms, he looked like an ordinary tourist._

_Tropea was undeniably beautiful. It was easy to get lost in fantasies of staying hidden away forever. In reality, they were on a mission; still trying to make the world a less darker place despite that world essentially throwing them aside like trash. But this was the life they chose. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad._

_“So what’s the story this time?” Steve suddenly appeared, nudging at his side._

_“Anguria," he enunciated the word slowly, "I give it a solid seven out of ten,” he replied, in reference to his drink, motioning to inspect the glass, “You enjoy your run?”_

_“Yeah,” he sighed, “The view is just...”_

_“Kinda makes you wish we could stay for real?” Sam finished._

_“If only.”_

_“Y’know, it would be easy...if we stopped, right now,” he trailed off as he noticed Natasha approaching them from the shore, and swivelled his stool in her direction. She had a loose tan knit tied around her waist, newly blonde hair damp at her shoulders. He could only guess how she procured the black bikini that seemed to hug her figure perfectly. She was squinting against the brightness, but still with a hint of a smile in their direction, which, after another second more he realized, was just Steve’s._

_“And what have you been up to on this temporary reprieve?” He inquired once she was within earshot._

_“Oh you know, some much needed R &R...cliff diving by that cave back there,” she motioned behind her with her thumb, her eyes lighting up, “It’s pretty incredible.”_

_“If you consider extreme sports in the a.m. relaxation,” Sam smirked behind another swig of crushed ice. The cool trickle down his throat gave him a momentary reprieve from the beating sun._

_“I just figured we have about...twelve hours before our problems catch up to us again. If we don’t try to steal moments like these, then, what are we even doing?” She shifted her yearning gaze between the two of them, as a salty breeze threaded in between strands of her hair._

_“I still don’t really know,” Steve concluded, hands at his hips, surveying the landscape around them. His eyes landed on Natasha._

_They were tracking the Camorra. More specifically, a small caravan originating in Quarto which they discovered was making its way to the south for something big; what they believed would be an auction for scavenged Chitauri tech coming from across the Ionian sea to the east. As far as they knew, no one suspected their interception. No one here knew who they were. And for the past two days it had felt, liberating._

_“You should come dive with me,” Natasha turned to Steve, fingers gliding over his arm, “I think you’d love it. Plus, the locals get a kick out of having fresh blood up there. Most of the tourists are too afraid to jump,” she chuckled._

_“We need to prepare for tonight,” he sighed, staring at the horizon behind her. Then he smiled softly, staring into her eyes, “If we’re still here tomorrow, you’re on.”_

_They stayed like that for a moment before Sam broke the silence. “Well, I’m gonna head over to that panini shop for a nice lunch before this two day vacation is over.” He slid his glass across the bar and stood, “Meet you back at the hotel for the briefing.”_

_“We should head up too,” Natasha nodded. “I was gonna head up to the piazza to scope out a decent dress for later. Wanna come?” She gave a slight raise of her brow._

_“Sure,” Steve grinned, shrugging._

_Sam had taken note of the shifting aura around him lately. Nat and Steve had been acting...different. He could see that they were all becoming much closer since they became fugitives, but now that they had the luxury to catch their breath for a moment, it had become even more apparent._

_Two nights ago when they arrived, they had ventured to explore a party happening on the beach. Natasha tasked herself with getting Steve to dance to latin music after he insisted he couldn’t. And in front of batted lashes and feather-light touches, he conceded and danced with her. They moved in sync, all the time—mind and body aligned. Frankly, it amazed him that he was the only one who noticed._

_He stood now, surveying the ornate room and congregation full of organized crime syndicates who had no idea who he was._

_They were right. They had come from all around the Mediterranean just for some Hydra leftovers. Natasha had eavesdropped on a conversation that proved it. They were pretending to be hired mercenaries, but the cover was flimsy, and without backup, they knew they wouldn’t last long. Sam felt the adrenaline flow through him._

_“If they reach a bid on the weapon...” Steve murmured from beside him between swigs of a whiskey._

_“All bets are off,” Sam finished._

_“It’s looking likely. I might as well go rescue Nat,” Steve declared, placing his empty glass on the plane of marble behind him and motioning forward to where Natasha was dancing with a schmoozing attempt stretched way too thin._

_“Mmhmm,” Sam mumbled coyly._

_He watched Steve approach them to Natasha’s surprise, and mouth a “scusa” in the man’s direction._

_Sam smirked from the distance behind his own glass._

_Then Steve’s hand was splayed across her lower back as the music changed and they were swaying in unison, whispering to each other. The dress Natasha had found was a Grecian cut, with an open back and long wafts of sheer black that parted at her thigh._

Ora, il tempo è ora  
Perché è una sola  
La vita è ora

_Sam turned to procure another drink. As he thumbed at the pick of olives he caught it out of the corner of his eye: among the sea of dancers, their mouths melded in a languid kiss. And then, just like that, it was over, as one by one, men from around the room were making their way toward the double doors at the edge of the space to acquire their prize. He felt his stomach churn as the realization hit that they were fated to follow._

***

“You think we created another branch just by coming here?” Bucky asked, shaking him from his revere.

“Does it matter? At this point?” Sam murmured. “Time’s almost up,” he declared, glancing at his watch. 

“Not quite,” Steve’s voice answered as he appeared directly beside them, taking a swig from a glass of whiskey.

Bucky smiled into his glass.

“So the prodigal son returns?” Sam quipped over the sound of soft playing jazz. 

“Yeah I thought about it. Peggy seems to believe you. It was three to one,” he smirked behind his glass.

“I’m happy to see you again, Steve,” Sam declared, spinning to face him, “Truly.” 

The soldier smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

“I have two conditions before I agree to do this,” he took another swig.

Sam nodded upward, beckoning him to proceed.

“No matter how this ends, I want insurance that once the mission’s over, I get to return.”

“There’s still a risk factor–“

“Which brings me to the next thing,” Steve continued, “Peggy comes with us.”

“No way,” Sam shook his head, “First of all, we only brought one extra suit,” he leaned toward Steve, lowering his voice at his mention of the word.

“I never destroyed mine,” Steve revealed, “It’s hidden somewhere safe...with the last vial of particles.”

“Fine,” Sam conceded, letting out a breath, “But she gets lost in the quantum realm, it’s on you.” He stood and threw some bills acquired from the stolen car onto the bar, “Time to get this show on the road.”

***

A light wind whistled through the blades of grass. The light of the moon caressed the expanse of field and trees and wooden boards along the porch. The soft hum of insects graced their ears.

“You ready?” Sam turned to Steve, who was walking into the yard from the back door of the house. He procured the suit he had stashed and was now wearing it. 

Peggy appeared behind him, examining herself in the suit, amazed, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“A future friend of yours is going to invent the first iteration in about twenty five years,” Bucky snickered. Sam nudged him in the ribs.

“Did you set her device?” he asked Steve.

“Yeah. Ready on your cue.” 

“Now it’s important that you hold on tight,” Sam addressed Peggy, “Bruce is only expecting coordinates for three bodies on his end. If you lose hold, you could end up lost in the quantum realm forever.” He shifted his gaze among the both of them.

“I understand.” She nodded.

Sam found her confidence astonishing. She was about to embark on a fifth dimensional journey with hardly any briefing, for the first time, and she didn’t appear the slightest bit terrified.

“Alright. Switches on three. One...two—“

The world once again morphed and warped around them. After an instance, Sam felt his feet hit ground again. He opened his eyes to see Bruce and Lang observing from below their platform. To his relief, all four of them were standing on it. 

“H-holy shit,” Bucky gasped, exasperated, and grasping at his sides.”

“He’s back,” Scott hummed in awe of seeing Steve again.

“Uh guys,” Bruce casually motioned to Peggy, “What did you do?”


	6. Hyperspeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers congregate before their big mission into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extra week this time around. Things have gotten crazy with my new job and now the virus. There's gonna be a bit of a hiatus before Book II as well to give me some time to finish it off, but now that I'm working from home for the next while it should get done. Godspeed out there!

  
“You brought a person from the past!” Bruce exclaimed, waving his arms around in front of him.

“Don’t look at me,” Sam paced, jabbing a thumb in the soldier’s direction. 

“To be fair they were living together, and she sort of had no idea he was from the future until we showed up.” Bucky muttered.

“Wow,” Bruce uttered in monotone.

Peggy stood from her chair. They were back inside the new compound, trying to unpack what would happen next. “You know I am here to help...just as much as I am to support Steve’s...newfound journey of self-realization.” She enunciated the last part with a hint of disdain, focusing her attention in Steve’s direction before continuing. “I am the one who assured him that coming back for this mission was the right thing to do. And he owes me answers, so—“

“Okay, I am really confused,” Scott interrupted, hands outstretched in front of him.

“I think we all are.” Sam added.

“Fine,” Bruce sighed in defeat, “You wanted answers, you got it,” he gestured around him to the remnants of the Avengers.

“I forgot to ask this but why is he green,” Peggy leaned into Steve and whispered, her eyes still on Bruce.

“Long story,” Steve replied. 

Suddenly, the doors to the foyer burst open and Clint strolled in, with Wanda and Rhodes trailing behind him. “Tell me it’s true,” he demanded, exasperated. Then his eyes fell on Peggy, his features relaxing with subtle confusion, “Who’s this?”

Wanda and Rhodey both lit up at the sight of Steve standing before them, once again.

“Hi Clint,” Steve sighed, punctuated with a hinted smile, “I’m sure you’ve all heard of Peggy Carter.”

“Huh.” Clint nodded. He glanced back at Steve, “Good to see you back, buddy. Your funeral was solid by the way, real tear jerker.” He gave Steve a light pat on the back.

“Alright, now that everyone’s caught up...” Bruce continued with a slight eye roll, “Carol is expected to arrive in the morning with our ship. No more time travel from here on out. Wanda believes that the timing of the message is significant, therefore, no point in us travelling back to the moment Nat died. This is happening now...well at least, relative to now. I don’t know, I’ve only been to space once.” He adjusted his glasses. “We don’t know what we can expect to find beyond the scenarios depicted in Wanda’s dreams...which may be entirely metaphoric in nature. We are, quite literally, grasping at this blindly...walking into an unknown. I suggest that before stepping onto that ship tomorrow, you each ask yourselves if you’re fully prepared to take that leap...for Natasha’s sake, and also your own.”

“We should all get some rest.” Sam concluded the briefing. 

Everyone parted ways through the foyer to find a room or place to settle in. The summer sun had just set. Sam padded into the common room for a glass of orange juice and a final sweep before heading to sleep. In the dimness, he saw Steve sitting on one of the bar stools absentmindedly, and he quietly moved to sit next to him.

After the giant wall clock had been ticking away for one full revolution, Steve finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry Sam.”

“For what,” he raised an eyebrow.

“For not being as optimistic as you hoped. I realize this new reality was probably disappointing to wake up in.” 

“It has its moments,” Sam murmured, gulping down the remainder of the juice in his cup.

Steve was staring straight ahead. He sighed, “I shouldn’t have left when I did.”

“No one blamed you.” After a lingering pause he continued, “So, are you finally gonna tell me what the hell happened between you and Natasha while I was dead that has you so scared?”

A look of defeat crossed Steve’s features. “We were each other’s only companion for five years. Even though life kind of, found a way to tick on, it always felt like we were riding out the end of days...just the two of us...like nothing was real.”

Sam studied the pain laced into his expression as he spoke. He was able to formulate his own theory of what Steve meant.

“She never really gave up on you, even on the worst days, and even long after I finally accepted the inevitable. I was the last one of us to leave the compound. I don’t know if she ever really forgave me for that.” 

“Maybe this is your chance to make it up to her.” Sam let the thought marinate in Steve’s mind before shifting the subject. “Do you remember that night in Tropea?”

“What about it?”

“...Right before Thanos...before all of this. Do you think anything would have happened differently, if we didn’t blow our cover that night?”

“He still would have come, Sam. It was always beyond us.” 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m talking about that kiss both of you pretended never happened.”

His eyes fluttered before a soft breath escaped his lips, “That was...”

“Yeah I get it,” he smirked solemnly, “Not the right time I guess.” After a brief pause he finished his thought, “But it meant something.”

Sam could sense Steve’s features tense. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he sharpened his attention in front of him. “Maybe it did.” he uttered, hoarsely.

Sam studied him for another minute.   
“Steve...I’ll do my best to get you and Peggy back to the past when it’s all done. You have my word. But I hope that no matter how this ends, you’ll reconsider your place here. The Avengers can be a home again.”

“Not without her.”

***

They were awoken by the roar and quaking of the ship landing in the meadow outside. One by one, everyone emerged outside to greet Carol. As the hatch descended, they were surprised to see a certain god of Thunder, posed in front of Rocket and Groot, instead. 

“Surprised to see us, fleabags?” Rocket snickered as he jumped onto the grass. 

Steve and Bucky made eye contact as they smiled in bewilderment. 

“Did-did that raccoon just speak?” Peggy asked, astonished. 

“What’s the matter with this one?” Rocket jabbed a thumb in her direction.

“Hello my friends!” Thor exclaimed, raising his arms, Stormbreaker in hand, and following Rocket off of the platform. Bruce moved to embrace Thor in a hug. “So glad to see you guys! But where’s Carol?”

“Captain sparkle fingers was busy as usual with some inter-dimensional peacekeeping shindig or something like that. So she called us because she thought we were closer to the mission. But she sends this beauty of a ship and her best regards.”

“She give you the briefing?” Bruce interrogated.

“One hundo P. Honestly, I liked that Natasha girl. I’d leave her in charge more often.”

“I tried to tell them it wasn’t over...that we’d get her back,” Thor beamed from ear to ear, glancing at Rocket and then to the rest of the group, pausing an instance longer as his eyes met Steve’s.

“I’m glad you guys are coming with us,” Rhodey grinned, reaching to clap Thor on the back. 

***

His brain rattled against the sheer force of the ascent. Sam gripped at his seat as fire and gravity clashed in a battle fit for ancient titans. He could swear his heart was thumping even louder than the crack of the engines. He was processing what felt like hundreds of thoughts per second; anxieties about what awaited them, the exhilaration of being in space, and the desire to reach absolution. If Wanda was right, he wasn’t sure they were prepared for this. But people like Natasha were worth fighting for. As his heart rose in his chest, he fought against the storm with determined breaths.

“Approaching jump point in 3—“ Rocket declared, his paw clutching the control lever.

“Everybody ready to say goodbye to our solar system?” Bruce exclaimed over the whirr of light speed. 

Surveying the faces of all the newbies strapped in behind them, Rocket erupted into thunderous laughter, and pulled the lever, sending them into hyper speed.


	7. Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She remembered a flash of staring up at a tall cliff; warm light ascending further from reach as time counted backward to oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's certainly been a year.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who is still subscribed/invested in this story. I haven't forgotten you lovely souls, even though it takes me a long time to write, and this fandom knows I have historically sucked at finishing long fics. I've been scolding myself for not just finishing book two during the first lockdown, but in this case, second lockdown was the charm. 
> 
> There will be more chapters in book two, with more thrills, and more cosmic comic nuance that I can't wait for you guys to read. I will update weekly again until this book is complete! Also, when I imagined what could happen to Natasha after death, I was heavily inspired by season 5 of The 100. So obligatory disclaimer because I directly draw from it in some parts.

Everything was cold, and dark; paralyzing. Fire seared through every nerve as she lay frozen, in the void of her own body. 

It continued like this for ages—simultaneous debilitating pain, and lack of all sensation of form. None of it made sense...literally. It felt as if all of her human senses had been compromised. 

_Was this hell?_

Time was incomprehensible. She struggled against her remaining mental capacity to force her limbs to move. She laid there in the rubble until finally, she was graced with the vision in front of her, and slowly willing herself upright. She was staring up at a blank midday sky. It was starkly quiet. 

Several memories were suddenly accessible. She blinked. She remembered a flash of staring up at a tall cliff; warm light ascending further from reach as time counted backward to oblivion. The burned image of that jagged peak, contrasting the empty expanse currently clouding her vision caused her to flinch. There were no structures in sight of where she found herself now. She slowly unfolded her limbs and stumbled to her feet, observing vast stretches of dusty wasteland in every direction. The sun was dimmed behind a layer of clouds. There were no discernible landmarks in sight. 

She gasped at the overarching emptiness. There was nothing to do but pick a direction and walk—or stay and continue to die in the middle of nowhere. Disoriented, she trudged along toward what she perceived to be the east, all the while trying to reconcile what had happened. 

_We were...supposed to stop Thanos. How-how did I get here? Where is...here?_ She pondered as she assessed the barren landscape. 

It seemed as if she were walking for several hours, until eventually, rigid, abstract, structures caught her eye in the distance—trees, or rather, what appeared to be the charred remains of several trees. She squinted and used her remaining energy to push onward in the hopes that the sight of vegetation indicated water or food was nearby. 

But even that was an overstatement. The forest was hardly a forest at all; blackened branches twisted aimlessly, surrounded by dried earth. There was nothing here.

The expanse of dead trees stretched on, until she noticed an abrupt halt in the horizon of the terrain. She hurried to the edge to see what lay below. A pit sank to the bottom of her stomach. She gasped again, louder than before. There, in the centre of the valley, embedded in contours which she now recognized, was the compound—reduced to rubble.

“No—“ she whispered, her breath caught in her throat. Compelled, she hopped down the cliff edge, darting out to reach the rubble. _An explosion_ , she guessed, based on the blackened surface and the way the ground had swallowed the bottom layers in a sinkhole. If there were anyone left alive, they’d be buried underground, she surmised. She climbed up one of the dilapidated walls, leading her to the area above the common rooms. She frantically searched for something she could use to part the rock. Her eyes landed on a shard of pipe wedged a few feet away. With a grunt she was able to free it. 

She spotted a divot in the chunks of concrete, exposing a skylight, and repeatedly jammed the pipe into it to force the gap apart. “I’m here!” She shouted breathlessly. It echoed across the valley. 

After several minutes of relentless pounding, the earth began to rumble, as the remaining structural integrity of the rubble beneath her gave way. As she descended through the roof, she was coated in dust and debris. 

Regaining awareness, she stumbled up in the darkness. Glints of light from the surface reflected off of furniture in the room. It was a bedroom. Her eyes widened. _That room._ She scrambled through debris and broken glass until she began to spot the artifacts, strewn about. This was her memorial. 

She remembered the day they put it together, three months after the snap. It had been Steve’s idea, after one too many instances of catching her pause solemnly every time something in the common area triggered a memory of one of their friends. He could see how staying was holding them both back, that there wasn’t going to be anything left for them here—something he finally acknowledged aloud one day when he came home to find her caressing a pair of Sam’s goggles, and sobbing into her shirt sleeves. She knew he was right. They were torturing themselves...but for whatever reason, neither one of them could muster up the will to leave. So they collected items from around the compound, and laid them to rest inside their makeshift mausoleum, physical remains to bury. And then they locked it shut.

She examined Sam’s goggles in her fingers now, running them across the cracked lenses and worn leather straps. Instinctively, tears began to fall, as the loss and emptiness overwhelmed her once again. She became wracked with sobs, as she cradled them to her chest. 

She had no recollection of the point at which she gave in to sleep, but she awoke from her spot on the dilapidated mattress. Warmer light was cascading through the hole in the ceiling. _How long had it been?_

The now brighter glow exposed a small crevice leading through the wall into the bigger common area. If there was any food left to be found, she had to try the kitchen. She surveyed the integrity of the tunnel. _Not like I got anything left to lose._

She scuffled her way through, silently praying that no more rubble gave way. The space opened up before her. Half of the foyer had been avalanched, now buried in debris. A narrow pathway to the kitchen was visible. She followed along, hopping over jagged slabs of wall and floor, and shards of torn furniture. The kitchen was equally a disheveled, blackened mess, no doubt due to an exploded appliance. She surveyed the pantry, remaining cupboards dangling from a single hinge. A box on the dusty floor caught her eye; a half eaten supply of strawberry pop tarts. Something about this particular image was familiar. Then it clicked. Thor had been munching on them just before they assembled through the quantum tunnel.

“This happened...after—” She placed a palm to the corner of her forehead as a sinking thought worked its way into her mind, “I’m dead.” She finally whispered aloud, hoarsely. 

Natasha braced herself on what was left of the nearby countertop, sliding back against it until she reached the floor. She was dead. At least, it seemed that way. A new degree of clarity lifted a wave of haze from her mind, like a drug slowly leaving her system. She had sacrificed herself on Vormir, and that was the last thing she remembered. “But then how am I here?” she whispered to herself again, “Where... _when_ is _here_?”

**BOOK TWO: NATASHA**

_She sat at the island, bare feet gracing the icy marble. She stared absentmindedly into a barely eaten bowl of stale cereal._

_“You looking for something in there?” Steve was resting against the kitchen archway, observing her._

_“Sorry,” she stammered, straightening her posture. She watched him saunter into the room and grab a carton of orange juice from the fridge, pouring himself a glass. He was wearing joggers and a compression tank, beads of sweat adorning his forehead and shoulders. He faced her from the other side of the island._

_“How was your run?” She prodded._

_“How do you think?”_

_“What do we do now, Steve.” She gazed upwards at him, eyes pleading for an answer; her words almost a whisper._

_He sighed, “I have no idea.” He took a sip from his glass._

_“It’s too quiet now.” She mused, “It just feels like we’re being haunted.”_

_“That’s why everyone else left.”_

_“They were just...ready to pack it all in so quickly...”_

_“Nat, there’s nothing else we could’ve tried. There’s no greater power in the universe.” He watched her draw attention back to her bowl, forcing herself to take a bite._

_“You haven’t been eating,” he forcibly muttered, tone soft through half lidded eyes._

_She subtly shook her head, then threw on a slight grin to mask the aura in the room, “I guess that was obvious.”_

_“Let’s try something,” he declared. She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s have a proper meal together. Tonight I’ll cook us some real food,” he gestured to the sad looking bowl in front of her._

_“Oh? You’re gonna cook?” She gave him a playful grin, leaning in toward him to rest her elbows atop the white granite, “Well then say no more.” Their eyes met, their glances lingering just a little too long._

***

Natasha pulled herself from the floor, continuing to stagger around the charred remnants of the common area. Her eyes caught another distinct artifact wedged atop a dilapidated shelf—Sam’s MP3 player. 

He had found it by accident while they were on the run, in an abandoned safe house in Constanta. Though dated, the tech was ideal because it couldn’t be traced. It became their primary source of entertainment during all of their car rides, and the soundtrack to their misadventures. She held the device to her chest as she continued poking around through the wreckage. 

***

_“So what do you think?” Steve asked, his voice a low hum._

_Natasha savoured the bite from her forkful of spaghetti con vongole, eyes playfully wide in anticipation. Her expression narrowed as she swallowed, “Oh my god. Steve, it’s incredible. How did you learn how to make this?”_

_He softly shrugged, “Internet. That restaurant actually had their special recipe posted on their website. I thought it’d help stir up some better memories...”_

_“How could I forget...,” she trailed off wistfully, “that first night in Tropea...”_

_He chuckled softly, “I don’t think either of us has eaten this well since,” he paused, “I don’t think mine hits quite the same though. Supermarket was low on fresh stock, too.” He twiddled his fingers around his fork._

_“No, this is..perfect.” She looked up from her bowl and caught his intensive glance._

_The song that was playing from Sam’s playlist changed. Her mind drifted back to that temporary reprieve, of lush cliff sides and crystal waters, which felt like another life now. They had kissed. It was almost instinctual—like they had become so accustomed to playing other people, neither of them could unravel the layers of where the cover ended and they began. Still, they had avoided bringing it up entirely, probably, Natasha surmised, deep down for those very reasons. It should have been a simple thing to put to bed, and yet, Natasha couldn’t seem to quell her curiosity after all these months, especially now that there was no one left to hide from._

Too late,  
You wanna make it right, but now it's too late...  
...I'm trying not to waste my time.

_Her features became solemn. “This was one of his favourite songs.” She murmured, almost a whisper._

_An image clouded her mind of Sam driving them along the Black Sea in their stolen truck, singing along to the current selection from his newly acquired device. She and Steve both grinned in amusement. Eventually, Sam had beckoned over to her in the passenger seat to join him, and she gave in to his infectious energy. In a later instance, the three of them sat on the porch of their dilapidated motel room, eating take out gyros in front of the sunset, and the moment had gotten them singing and smiling again._

_She released her fork into her almost empty plate, letting out an estranged breath as the loud clang of the utensil hitting porcelain reverberated through the common room._

_“Hey,” Steve whispered soothingly, jumping from his chair to reach her side in just a few strides. He placed a palm over her shoulder, rubbing across her back in repeated motions. His brows were knitted in concern._

_“Sorry,” Natasha stammered,” contorting her features in an attempt to fight off tears that threatened to fall._

_“It’s okay,” Steve assured her. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” After another brief moment of consoling her in a half embrace, he reached for her hand folded across her lap. “I got another one—dance with me?”_

_She turned to meet his gaze with the tiniest smile and obliged, letting him pull her up off the chair and fall gracefully into place in his arms. They swayed together slowly, her burying her face against the crook of his neck. His jaw was beginning to get scruffy again; his beard making a resurgence amidst the circumstance. She felt his stubble scratch at her cheek, and let out a soft hum of approval. They had danced together several times while on the run, but this was different; more intimate somehow, because they weren’t putting on a show for any onlooking stares._

If you want it, you can have it,  
If you need it,   
You better believe in something.   
We can make it, alright.

_When the tempo picked up slightly, Steve surprised her by briefly spinning her around, which earned him a breathless giggle, which he mirrored across his own lips. She let her arms encircle his neck, and felt his hands slide up along her hips in response, resting at the small of her back. She took in a deep breath, willing her heart rate to calm._

_Natasha began softly swaying her hips to the slow beat, the movement beckoning her attention away from her sadness. Steve matched her velocity, gripping at her just the slightest bit tighter._

_She instinctively leaned forward, their foreheads just inches apart. He caught her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, and they stayed studying one another for a prolonged minute._

_She fought against the urge to press herself completely into him, to feel the sturdiness of his muscles radiate into her skin and just hold her, upright. Just being this close to him now made her realize that they were dangerously close to tumbling over that metaphorical line in the sand. And unlike Tropea, this time there would be no running away from it._

Now won’t you close your eyes.

***

Eventually, she made her way through to the hangar, and the black crevices opened up to a larger cavern, a pool of light cascading from above seemed to highlight a second way out from the tomb. _But how am I gonna get up there?_

She then smirked as she caught sight of a rover in her peripheral that still looked in tact. Rushing over to it, she pried the driver side door open and attempted to force it to turn on. 

Nothing.

It was solar powered, she knew as much. She would have to claw an opening and drag it out several feet into the sun. _Not an option._

She attempted to survey the remaining wreckage for anything of use. Natasha clawed her way up the pile of rubble leading to the opening, thinking she could pry it wider by pulling on an exposed piece of rebar. She reconciled it was a bad idea immediately, as the force sent her tumbling backward, but she felt her body catch against a hard surface that saved her from falling. A metal clang reverberated from her side, echoing in the chasm. She knew what it was, but she turned slowly anyway, exposing the bright red and blue, and chrome star.


End file.
